Page 92 of Handle with Care
Then we’re kissing again, entwined on the bed. Skin to skin, we’ve exposed everything that matters, most of all our hearts,and there’re no words that can catch this feeling, how important it feels to be with him right now, here, together.
Mine. And ours.
With increasing urgency to our kisses, we settle against the pillows face-to-face on our sides, his leg over mine. It’s not long before he rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him.
Will’s eyes are dark with desire, his cheeks flushed, as his breathing catches with my steady teasing. His cock is already seeping in my hand. When I go down on him a couple of minutes, he arches his back and cries out my name.
His erection strains, hot in my mouth. I thrill with every moan and shudder Will makes as I flick my tongue around the head of his cock. I tease his balls as he shivers in response, then work a beat with my mouth and hand as he whimpers.
I lift my head long enough to admire Will for a long moment. And fuck, he’s really hot.
“God, I love you, Dylan.”
Then I suck him without mercy, till he gasps, and writhes, and clutches the blankets. I find the lube and a condom, pausing.
Before long, I’ve teased him open as he lies on his stomach, with lube on my fingers, my arm around him as he shudders. “Yeah, like that,” I breathe, encouraging him.
We move onto our sides, and I at last enter Will. And I’m overwhelmed with the sensation of him, hot and gorgeous, and fucking hell, it’s everything I can do to not come in this moment. He’s incredible, and what we have might have a limited time, but I want him to know how much I want him. How much he matters.
With reverence, we move together, my fingers tracing the curve of Will’s balls, running along the length of his shaft, teasing the tip of his cock till he gives a broken moan. The sensation of him is beyond description, the familiar scent of his skin as I bury my face against the nape of his neck.
We’re both breathing raggedly as I thrust, ready for release a few minutes later, but then I suddenly withdraw. Will cries out at the sudden absence of me. “Please don’t stop…”
“I want to see your face.”
“You…” He’s lost with pleasure, dazedly turning his head to glance over his shoulder back at me.
Gently, I put Will onto his back again, shifting between his thighs. I rake my fingers along them, clutching him. “I need to see your face.”
“Oh God,” Will manages as I stroke his cock with teasing fingers, watching him splayed before me like a gift to unwrap and a treasure to keep. He presses his head back into the pillow, groaning nonsense words. He’s delightfully flushed.
“Yeah, babe. Like that.” My fingers encourage him.
“Fuck.” Will arches his back again, and then I press myself into him, press deep till he’s moaning my name, drunk on the ecstasy of our bodies locked together. And I push deep, rocking with him, gripping his thighs.
Soon, he can’t take it anymore and comes explosively a moment later, all over his stomach and his chest and mine. Till I follow him, too, as the bed creaks with the effort of our movements, the rhythm we make together, gasping hard as we soar.
When the blood stops pounding in my ears, dizzy with the exertion, I collapse down on him for a moment before shifting to my side, my leg and arm over him. Belatedly, I deal with the condom, then shift back to drape my arm over his chest. To rake my fingers along his jaw.
Will gasps, his sides heaving for air. He stares at the ceiling.
I can’t quite speak yet too.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your migraine recovery,” I manage when I’ve got enough air in my lungs again.
He laughs.
“I love you, Dylan,” Will manages finally in the darkness, interlacing his fingers with mine over his chest. “Please. Don’t leave. Stay here with me.”
“I’ll do everything I can to stay,” I promise him, but that promise isn’t enough.
For either of us. No matter what our hearts and bodies want. Too many unanswered questions lie ahead.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When morning rolls around, everything feels different today after last night’s vulnerabilities as I lie with Will warm in my arms. He sleeps on when I gently shift him off my chest. He immediately curls up around my pillow. Will’s probably still sleeping off the last of the migraine recovery, never mind what we got up to last night.
I go to the kitchen, through the routine of making coffee and taking stock after the last twenty-four hours, which have admittedly been a lot. From begging to be fired, to tracking down Will, and then baring our hearts to each other.
